The Ugly Duckling
by BookishDruid
Summary: Hans has been returned to the Southern Isles to face his punishment at the hands of his brothers and father and try to put the pieces of his life back together. Implied Helsa.
1. Chapter 1: The Wicked Prince

**A/N: This is technically a prequel to a Helsa story I'm writing with tumblr user blue-pixiedust on our RP blogs. The chapter titles are stories by Hans Christian Andersen.**

* * *

Rain from the storm that tossed the ship on the waves found no resistance from the bars the bars that separated the prince from the rest of the deck. The relentless deluge soaked him through, chilling his skin and preventing him from feeling any warmth. He had sailed through worse when he commanded a ship which despite only being a few days prior felt as though it was a distant dream he would give anything to return to.

Hans could feel eyes on him as he sat hugging his knees but refused to look up. The ship had been docked for over an hour, giving time for his family to have been informed of his stupidity. Heavy footfalls that vibrated the wood beneath him and stopped just before his cell told him what he needed to know, "Get up, Johannes," the disgust in his eldest brother's voice was almost tangible.

"Viljar," the thirteenth said with a sarcastic smile as he got to his feet, "What a pleasant surprise."

The eldest prince was a bit shorter than his youngest brother, his shoulders weren't as broad, but they shared the same pointed nose and the family's peridot eyes. His dark blond hair was slicked back and his bright red suit perfect. Viljar ordered the cell door open with a scowl on his stern face and the guards pulled Hans forward by the jacket out onto the deck "Put him in irons and throw him in the carriage," he ordered as he walked past them and headed down the gangplank.

* * *

"Johannes," his mother Queen Adelaide pleaded from the other side of the bars, tears streaming down her face causing her makeup to run, "what happened?"

Her son sat against the cold stone wall of the dungeon cell with his elbows on his knees and irons around his wrists, "Everything went wrong," he said quietly without turning to look at her.

* * *

It brought a smile to the prince's face as he rode his horse down the pier. Everyone in the capital seemed almost overly excited about their new queen's coronation, "I bet they're both beautiful!" a little girl said as she sat on her father's shoulders.

"Nobody outside of the castle has seen them in thirteen years," he laughed, "They could look like trolls."

The prince raised a brow. He had been aware that the royal family of Arendelle was reclusive, but he didn't fully understand the extent; it explained why he had been called in from the sea to attend this event as the representative of his kingdom: his brothers couldn't be bothered.

He was torn from his thoughts when a girl collided with Sitron's chest, falling into a small boat that nearly slid into the harbor, but was thankfully stopped by the great horse's hoof, "Oh, I'm so sorry! Are you hurt?" Hans asked with concern.

"No, no, I'm okay," the strawberry blonde girl responded with a surprising smile.

"Are you sure?" he asked as he dismounted and stepped forward to help her stand.

"Yeah, yeah, I just wasn't looking where I was going, but I'm great actually."

"Oh thank goodness," he leaned closer and offered her hand as well as a charming smile. She had a pretty face and struggled to keep his anxiety in check for a moment before helping her to her feet. The youngest prince of the Southern Isles had never been able to keep a cool head around women, "Oh, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles," he gave a small bow and offered her the name his nanny had given him rather than the full name he had only heard from those who despised him.

"Princess Anna of Arendelle," the girl returned with a curtsy.

"Princess? My lady!" he immediately fell to one knee after realizing the gravity of the mess he had created. Unfortunately, Sitron felt the need to mimic the gesture releasing the pressure on the bow causing the pair to stumble towards the stern and the water below, "Woah! Woah! Woah!" he yelled as his one hand gripped the side of the tiny vessel and the other held her waist.

"Woah! Hi, again," she said obviously unsure of what to do in that situation. Sitron looked up and quickly stood, reapplying the pressure to the bow. The sudden shift tossed the prince and princess in the opposite direction causing Hans to land on his back and Anna to land on top of him.

"Oh, boy."

"This is awkward," the princess said as she pushed herself off of his chest, "Not that you're awkward! Just cause we're…I'm awkward, "she babbled nervously as she completely removed herself from him, "You're gorgeous…wait, what?"

"I'd like to formally apologize for hitting the princess of Arendelle with my horse," he smiled as she adjusted his clothes and offered her his hand to help her to her feet again, "and for every moment after."

"No, no, no, it's fine. I'm not THAT princess," she said as she walked around him, "Oh, hello," she turned and scratched Sitron's chin briefly, "If you had hit my sister Elsa it would have been yeesh! Cause, you know, but lucky for you it's it's just me."

"Just you?" he asked with a disbelieving smile. She was a beautiful girl! A princess! And, much to his surprise, seemed to be attracted to him!

The two stared at one another for a moment until the sound of church bells broke her from her trance, "The bells! The coronation! I…I…I have to go! I better go! Uhh, bye!" Hans, and unfortunately Sitron, waved to the princess in return causing the prince and the boat to fall into the water.

* * *

Inside the modest guest room he looked over his options for the ceremony and ball. This was his chance, everything had to be perfect.

Dozens of stories and fairytales filled his memory as he looked them all over. Each story was a promise of the 'happily ever after' he so desperately wanted; the wicked were pushed, the good hearted were rewarded, and everything negative told to the protagonist about themselves turned out to be a lie.

He caught his reflection in the mirror and frowned. The princes in the tales were flawless. None were described as ginger-pated, freckled, with thin lips and large ears. They were more like his brothers: dark-haired or blond with a spotless complexion. Hans took in a deep breath and reminded himself that they weren't there and he was! He may not be rescuing the princess, but technically Cinderella's prince didn't rescue her, she really rescued herself, and Beauty saved the beast and even in those stories the prince lived happily ever after.

His brothers weren't there to mock or belittle him so he actually had the opportunity he had always been denied. He could dance and, since she seemed rather awkward herself, hopefully charm her. Only two of the fifteen members of his immediate family cared for him, but his crew and the castle staff always had and he prayed she was more like the latter.

The thirteenth prince finally decided on the outfit that best complemented what he knew the princess would be wearing. Drawers, shirt, socks, trousers, boots, waistcoat, cravat, tailcoat, boots, and gloves each item was a layer of armor between himself and the world around him. Since childhood he had used clothing this way, a way to hind in public; it hid his scars, most of his freckles, and gave him some kind of control in at least one aspect of his life. Only with people he trusted was he willing to remove even a piece of it and only alone would he ever fully disrobe.

* * *

The pews were crowded and Hans was quite thankful for Arendelle's mild summers; had he been back in Baltia he would have been sweating profusely.

Without his glasses the faces at the altar were blurry, but there was no doubt the strawberry blonde blur in the green gown was Princess Anna and he raised his hand to offer a slight wave as the man next to him fell asleep on his shoulder. She offered a small wave back and he couldn't help the excitement in his chest; the blonde blur next to her he assumed to be her sister.

* * *

He held his fifth glass of champagne in hand as he made his way through the crowd generally unnoticed. Suddenly he caught sight of her and maneuvered his way over. To his horror she had tripped on her skirt and was falling backwards as he arrived. His hand shot out and took hers, "Glad I caught you," he smiled as he set the glass on the tray of a passing waiter and pulled her to stand and moved into a dance.

* * *

"We spent the rest of the evening laughing and flirting. I had never felt like that before. She actually enjoyed my company, she had fun with me! A lovely princess was interested in me! Between the champagne, the chocolate fondue, and the high of infatuation I stupidly proposed."

"Johannes..." there was sympathy in his mother's voice. She knew all too well her son's awkwardness with women; she had witnessed it repeatedly at various balls held at the palace.

"We went to tell her sister and ask for her blessing…"

* * *

He was happier than he could ever remember. She liked him! She had agreed to marry him! He could bring his mother and Klaus and never have to set foot in Baltia or see the rest of his family ever again!

They came up to what had looked like a mass of purple until they were up close, "Elsa! Elsa! Um… I mean… Your majesty. May I present Prince Hans of the Southern Isles," the queen turned to face them and his world stopped. Anna was a pretty girl, but Elsa was an angel on earth: hair of spun gold, skin of moon beams, and she had the universe in her eyes. His heart pounded and his stomach fluttered in a way he had never felt before. In the brief moment before Anna spoke, he had seen his entire life with the women that now stood in front of him: a whirlwind courtship, a wedding, blonde and red headed children running through the halls of the castle.

What had he done?

* * *

"I realized in that moment that what I felt for Anna wasn't love if another woman could affect my heart so, but what could I do? Anna asked her to bless the marriage, I did as well, and it was a great relief when Elsa denied it. Anna was upset and pursued Elsa as she walked away. Elsa was obviously growing more stressed by the second, her body language said that much, but that's when she revealed her magic. A ring of ice spikes surrounded her in protection. She was terrified and ran out of the castle, freezing the fjord and plunging the kingdom into a second winter.

Anna went after her and left me behind to take care of the kingdom. I did everything I could to make sure the citizens had blankets, hot food, and adequate shelter. The Duke of Weselton was trying his best to stop me saying I was 'giving away all of Arendelle's tradable goods.'

While I was handing out blankets Anna's horse returned without her. I took a group of volunteers from the castle guard and Wesleton's guards with me to find her, but we found Elsa instead."

* * *

The prince sat in awe of the magnificent palace of ice that now stood before him. It looked as though she had pulled the stars from the night sky to make it. As they neared it a monstrous creature made of ice and snow rose from the ground; Hans and the men dismounted to fight the beast. The prince was an excellent swordsman, but the creature was faster than its size let on. He barely dodged several blows before seeing an opening and slicing through its leg. As the creature fell into the chasm that separated them from the palace it tried desperately to take Hans with it, but he managed to keep his hold on the icy bridge that crossed the void and was pulled up by the castle guard.

Hans stormed into the castle followed by the guards, but halted immediately, throwing his arms wide to stop the men behind him. Golden green eyes went wide when he fully took in what he was seeing: Queen Elsa stood in the center of the room with one of the Duke's guards pinned to the wall, an ice spike ready to pierce his throat and the other guard was inches from being pushed off a ledge into the chasm Hans had barely escaped falling into. He had to stop her from making a mistake that would both condemn her and haunt her for the rest of her life, "Queen Elsa! Don't be the monster they fear you are!" she turned to him with seething rage that softened to the fear it was masking and the ice stopped moving. A small noise the caught the prince's ear and he turned to find the guard pinned to the wall had raised his crossbow. Instinctively he dashed over and grabbed the weapon, pointing it at the ceiling as the bolt was released. His actions prevented the queen's death, but it caused a massive ice chandelier to fall over her head. Elsa ran to avoid being crushed by her own creation, but wasn't fast enough to avoid it entirely and her unconscious body fell to the icy floor.

The guards freed Wesleton's men as Hans walked over and to the shock of all present lifted her into his arms like a bride with no sign of fear or hesitation.

"What are you doing?!"

"She's going to kill you!"

"We have to kill her now while we can!"

The prince ignored their cries as he carried her out of the ice palace, "I won't let them kill you," he said softly to the angelic woman in his arms. The hand not holding Sitron's reigns brushed a piece of hair from her face.

* * *

He paced outside the cell waiting for the sounds of her stirring. Upon their return the duke and others had insisted on her execution while Hans steadfastly defended her; there had to be another way to end the winter. The dungeon was a compromise he was forced to accept; the fact there were shackles specifically designed to completely cover her hands was not lost on him. They had to have been commissioned by her parents before their passing. They had feared her. No wonder she thought herself a monster. The sounds of chains rattling broke him from his thoughts and he pushed open the cell door.

* * *

"I begged her to stop the winter, but the fear in her eyes as she told me she couldn't led me to the same conclusion as the rest; I had to kill her to save her kingdom. I left to discuss things with the other dignitaries when Princess Anna was brought into the library where I was. I rushed over immediately and caught her as she stumbled. Her hair was mostly white and she was begging me to kiss her. I asked her what had happened and everyone cleared out of the room leaving us alone.

I carried her to the couch and laid her down. She told me Elsa had frozen her heart after swearing to me Elsa would never hurt her before she left to find her. Then she explained that only an act of true love could thaw her heart."

Adelaide nervously bit her lip as she recalled all the stories she and Link would read to him as a child, "True love's kiss."

"I knew that I didn't love her and she was going to die because of it. Her parents were dead, her sister had betrayed her, and I was all she had left. I was so angry at Elsa for what was happening, but terrified as well. I was left in charge, I was supposed to protect them, I was given the chance to be the heroic prince and I had failed. I couldn't face kissing her; I couldn't face that failure, the proof that I was never going to be a hero, that happy endings don't happen to people like me. In a moment of cowardice, I…I become one of them," he hung his head and squeezed his knees.

She gasped and covered her mouth, "You didn't…"

"I pulled away and told her what they had said to me so many times. I looked right in her searching blue eyes and said 'Oh Anna, if only there was someone out there who loved you.'" That phrase haunted them both; their father and brothers had said it harm them, the staff had said it as a statement of pity, and he had used out of fear. "I then made up a lie saying that I had come to Arendelle to marry Elsa and take the throne, but since she was so reclusive I had settled for her and had planned on killing Elsa to take the throne. I put out every source of heat in attempt to not prolong her suffering, and left her to die alone," he sobbed heavily into his knees.

"Is the snow queen a monster, Johannes?" Adelaide asked, confused by her in the story he had just recalled.

"No, mother I am," he said as he wiped his nose with his handkerchief, the sound of rattling chains making his mother's lip quiver, "but I don't consider her above responsibility either. She put thousands of lives at risk for slow, painful deaths, ran instead of trying to save them, froze her sister's heart, and yet she receives no repercussions for her actions. She is celebrated by her kingdom, loved by the people she left to die, and I am here. I have no idea what punishment awaits me, but I doubt it will be light. All because I tried to save her people," he pushed a heavy sigh out of his pointed nose, "I did make mistakes. What I did to Princess Anna I can never forgive myself for. I let my own cowardice control me instead of facing my own failure. For that I will deserve whatever is chosen for me."


	2. Chapter 2: Little Klaus and Big Klaus

It had been days, possibly weeks since he had heard anything about an official sentence. His mother and Klaus had come to bring him meals and keep him company when they could; he felt it was to ensure he didn't take his own life in the mean time and he had to admit the thought had crossed his mind, but they knew he wouldn't want either of them to come upon such a sight. Rolf, Santo, and Mikael had also entered his cell and always left with his blood on their hands. Hans closed his burning, swollen eyes and leaned his head back against the wall trying to ignore the throbbing in his split bottom lip, bruised cheeks, and cracked ribs. The thought had crossed his mind many times.

The door creaked opened once again and Klaus entered followed by men carrying a tub, of steaming water, fresh clothes, basic toiletries, and a much needed razor, "Your sentencing is in a few hours and I convinced Viljar you needed to at least look presentable."

Never did he remember a bath feeling as good as this, but he never gone so long without one before. The hot water reddened his fair skin, but the sting was pleasurable as he lowered his body in.

Hans scrubbed himself until the water became too cold for him to stay in it. The mirror and razor were then utilized and after the stubble and dirt was removed he was finally left with a face he recognized which was a comfort even if he wasn't fond of his own appearance.

* * *

Just like every other part of the palace the throne room was covered in glistening white and accented in golden lions; an ostentatious showing of the kingdom's wealth. Hans' heart sank when Viljar entered and seated himself on the gold throne that was elevated above everyone by about two feet, forcing all to look up at him and allowing him to look down at those in his presence; Klaus could present a logical argument to their father Viktor, but the tenth prince had very little chance of swaying the eldest prince. Viljar was slightly shorter than Hans, two and thirty years older than the youngest prince, clean shaven, with a thin build, and blond hair he kept swept back. Standing before him was the French dignitary that had brought Hans back to Baltia, Torvald, the much feared fourth prince, Hans, and Klaus. Torvald equaled Hans in height, but the youngest prince was dwarfed by the elder brother's bulk. He had the piercing green eyes the Westergaard's were known for, a square jaw, short dark hair, a matching beard and mustache, and could likely wrestle a bear and win. Klaus was shorter than all of the other princes with a small frame, dark hair, and large, soft brown eyes (the only prince to inherit their mother's eyes) made larger by his glasses. What the tenth prince lacked in size, he more than made up for with his formidable intellect.

"After hearing the report of your actions in Arendelle, Johannes, you are to be escorted by Torvald to Greystone Prison where you shall remain for the rest of your life," Viljar's voice echoed Hans' death knell through the hall.

"Brother, please, allow me to speak on Johannes's behalf," Klaus's gentle, soothing voice pleaded.

"Fine, amuse me," Viljar said with a haughty laugh.

Klaus hated the idea of sacrificing the reputation of a woman he had never met but it was either that or let Torvald take Hans to Ravenrot. The prison was once a castle on an isolated island in the harbor, but the ruins had been converted into Greystone Prison nearly a century prior. The prison was the most notorious in the region and Torvald ruled it like his own kingdom. His cruelty and lack of regard for the lives of the inmates had earned the institution the nickname of Ravenrot due to all of the carrion birds that lined the tops of the walls growing fat on the corpses that were regularly dumped between the inner and outer walls; what the birds left behind was then dumped into the surrounding sea feeding the sharks. The tenth prince had no doubt the fourth would ensure the thirteenth fed his pets before winter. "Queen Elsa, by Monsieur Hulot's own admission, put the lives of not only her citizenry, but those of the visiting dignitaries and her own sister at risk when she froze her kingdom then left them to die. The crops were locked in ice, no ships could enter or leave to bring supplies, and the princess left Johannes alone to care for the populace and visiors. Also by Monsieur Hulot's words, Johannes provided all with food, shelter, and blankets to prevent them from freezing to death," Klaus turned to face the Frenchman, "Did anyone know how to stop the winter?" the foreigner looked down and shook his head, "Johannes was the only one trying to save Arendelle!"

"Why then did he lie about exchanging vows with the princess?" Hulot asked angrily, trying to save face since he had brought the prince in as a criminal.

"If he had not the Duke of Weselton would have taken advantage of the power vacuum and bled Arendelle dry. The queen was imprisoned, the princess was dying by the queen's hand, and he was the only one keeping Arendelle from falling into complete chaos!" Torvald's eyes narrowed and he snarled in frustration and anger; he was no match for his younger brother's skill with words, "Yes, he lied. Yes, he tried to kill the queen, but at that time it was the only way anyone could think of to stop the winter and prevent thousands from dying from either freezing or starvation."

Viljar opened his mouth to speak but the sound of the throne room doors being opened made him pause. Through the doors walked Queen Adelaide, her fiery hair pulled back in a beautifully coiled bun, dressed in a gown of stormy silver and deep blue, head held high and an unfamiliar determination in her dark brown eyes, "This ends now," her usually serene voice filled the room in a way not even King Viktor's could, "You will NOT send my son to be eaten by scavengers in Torvald's personal Tartarus! You have heard Klaus and the facts do not warrant such treatment!" the queen gave Torvald a sidelong look that made the mountainous fourth prince take a step back.

"Dear Adelaide," Viljar's words seemed to slither out of his throat, "I believe this is my deci…"

"No, it is not. Viktor is in no state to make such decisions and I am queen. I have been forced to sit quietly as you and the rest of your ilk have systematically abused and neglected my child under threat of something worse if I tried to intervene. There is nothing worse for Johannes' than for his fate to be left in Torvald's merciless hands!" Adelaide walked up the few steps to the throne and stood over the eldest prince. Viljar was the first of seven children birthed by Viktor's first wife Marja. The fourth queen was actually thirteen years younger than the man she currently stood before and had been handpicked by him to marry his father. At two and forty the flame haired queen outshone women half her age.

"His crimes cannot go unpunished," Viljar said with a condescending laugh.

"I did not say he should go without punishment, but he will NOT be sent to Greystone!"

The eldest prince locked eyes with the queen who refused to yield, "Fine, he will not to be sent to Greystone, but he will receive recompense," Viljar said as he looked away, "Return him to the dungeon until a sentence is determined."

Torvald scowled to the youngest prince, then to the queen but looked away when she met his gaze.

* * *

Tears stained the queen's cheeks as she treated the bleeding gashes on her son's back left by the beads on the ends of the leather strips of the cat-o-nine tails that tore his flesh with each strike; Hans hadn't made a sound during the torture nor while she was treating the wounds.

"They did a real number on you, boy," doctor Jensen shook his head as he closed the cell door behind him, "While it doesn't help now, it won't happen again," the old field medic said as he set down his bag and moved to closer examine the damage, "I've never seen Klaus so angry. He drug the twins to the king and, while I don't know exactly what was said, I could hear him yelling halfway through the castle," he chuckled slightly as he as he reached and opened his kit, "they won't be calling him Maus anytime soon."

Adelaide couldn't read his face as he looked over the wounds and nervously played with the lace of her gown, "Most, while painful and likely to scare, are superficial, but a few will require stitching," the aging physician frowned at the large, open gash that crossed from his right shoulder to just above his left hip, "but this one will have to heal on its own; it's too wide to sew.

Hans looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps to find Klaus, "What is to be his fate?" the queen asked nervously.

"Much better than I had expected," Klaus said as he entered, "You will be allowed to return to your room, but you will be required to do labor around the castle and be part of the crew on the supply runs to Greystone," his smile was weak but hopeful.

"No more torture? No Execution? No imprisonment?" she could barely believe what she was hearing.

"I don't know what's changed, but father is different. Viljar , Mikael, Santo, and Rolf argued for a much harsher sentence, but he wouldn't hear any of it. He acknowledged that you had to receive some sort of punishment, but he agreed to my more lenient offer. Unfortunately," Klaus sighed, "there was no term stated."

"Alright," Jensen said as he finished the work he could do on the prince's back, "I will be up twice a day to change the bandages until you no longer need them. During this time," he turned to the guard and pushed his glasses up his nose, "he is to be brought his meals, perform no labor, and only Prince Klaus and Queen Adelaide of the royal family are permitted to visit him. I want guards posted at the bottom of the tower at all hours. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, sir," the guard saluted the doctor.

"Good," he turned his attention back to Adelaide, "Your majesty, I suggest giving Miklas your key to Prince Johannes' room for the time being to allow his meals and me in and out as needed."

"Don't I have a say in this?" Hans finally spoke in an irritated tone.

"No, captain, as the surgeon I have deemed you unfit for duty."

The redhead huffed in defeat; Jensen's military experience drew more respect from his current patient than he would normally have given any physician when it came to understanding his physical limitations.


	3. Chapter 3: The Old House

"I'm so sorry," Klaus frowned as he sat next to Hans who lied on his bed with his stomach on the thick, dark red bedding.

"What for?"

"If I had come earlier you wouldn't be in this state."

"You had no idea what was going on and stopped them as soon as you saw what was happening," Hans said with an assuring smile, "Besides; I wish I could have seen Rolf's face when you ripped the cat out of his hand."

The older prince chuckled, "I've never seen him or Santo wear such a look of shock and confusion before. They were no better when I had them hauled to father with me I don't believe any of them had ever heard me raise my voice before."

"It was a first for me as well," Hans laughed, "but I also thank you for getting me out of the dungeon."

The tenth prince sighed, "This isn't much better." The youngest prince was housed in the tallest tower of Westergaard castle. It had been part of the original castle built in Baltia in the fourteenth century and was the only part of it still standing.

Westergaard castle as it stood had taken twenty five years to complete and was approximately a century and half old. During its construction the tower was reinforced, coated in the same gleaming white as the rest of the castle and a massive red flag bearing the golden lions of the Westergaard family crest was placed on top of it. The tower was the highest point in the city and gave stunning views in all directions. The arched wooden door at the bottom wasn't the original, but was a heavier one with a sturdy iron lock that had been replaced in the seventeenth century. Behind the door was a narrow stone staircase that wound around a central column and ended at a small door in the ceiling. That ceiling became the floor to a large round room that once held political prisoners, but had been modified for modern habitation. The arrow slits had been covered in glass and one at each cardinal direction had been widened to a more useful size for leisurely viewing than tactical defense. The chamber also held its own bathroom with large clawfoot tub, and a small hearth and chimney had been added around a hundred years prior. Rich reds hung over the windows and a massive canopy bed dressed in matching fabrics rested with its head against the grey stone wall. Beneath the northern window that faced the harbor was a writing desk full of journals and sketchbooks and was flanked by loaded bookshelves. For a prince it was extremely modest quarters, but it was the only place on land he had to call his own.

"I would rather be away from the rest of our brothers than have a larger room. Besides, my quarters on ship were always smaller than this anyway."

Klaus sighed and poured Hans a glass of water, "I suppose you are safer up here."

* * *

Dinner had be brought and the empty tray taken away, Jensen had come to clean his wounds, and the setting sun cast shades of red over the stone floor as its light filtered through the heavy curtains embroidered with gold. The drapes, the upholstery, and the bedding had been crafted by his nanny Linka from the flags she collected as they replaced them on top of the tower yearly. Hans loved the colors, was fond of cats, and Linka and his mother wanted him to know that no matter how he was treated he was a prince. The blood that ran through him had a long, proud heritage. The House of Westergaard had a legacy of kindness, generosity, fearlessness, and brilliance. Unfortunately Viktor had slowly been consumed by melancholy as disease took his first two wives with whom he had produced nine sons. Bitterness had taken his heart when he married his third wife, the mother of the twins. She was a cold and heartless woman who desired only wealth and renown; her death was contributed to disease as well, but many inside the castle had their suspicions. The current queen had been selected by Vilajar to wed his father despite her being thirty one years the king's junior and only eighteen at the time of the marriage.

Adelaide came from a small kingdom in the mountains south of the Southern Isles that was renowned for goldsmithing and gemcutting. While wealthy, their isolation had made them reliant on trade to survive, otherwise they never would have given their princess to Baltia.

* * *

"Mucking out the stalls, loading and unloading cargo sent to Greystone, manning the vessel transporting the supplies to Greystone," Klaus sighed as he lowered the list from his face, "Not exactly what I was hoping for," he adjusted his glasses and continued to read, "Cutting wood for the kitchen, and any other tasks Miklas, Abigail, or Hilda require of you."

"The last part I'm not concerned with, but I am less than comforted in knowing I will be frequenting Ravenrot."

The tenth prince placed the list on the desk and walked over to his brother who was still unable to lie on his back comfortably, "How are you healing?"

"Jensen believes I should be up for some light work in a day or so."

"I suppose that's good news."

"I'm going stir crazy in this cage and I know the staff won't let me do anything that could cause any damage."

* * *

"Have they not had a single stable boy clean anything since I was imprisoned?" Hans huffed as he put another shovel of dung on to the cart. He was filthy and hated it! The labor he didn't mind, but the filth and the insistence he wear his finest clothes while performing such tasks he loathed. He had Santo and Rolf to thank for that additional humiliation. They felt it was a way of reminding him what his actions had cost him.

A sudden noise akin to a cannonball caught his ear and he turned in time to see a massive snowball falling from the sky. The frosty projectile hit the prince dead on causing him to fly back into the cart of horse manure. He struggled against the weight of the snow, trying to free himself before he suffocated. Before he could process what had happened his lungs pulled in a mouthful of air and his vision was filled with a horse's snout, "Thanks, buddy," the prince smiled to Sitron as he nudged him with his nose, "I'm alright," he sighed as he stood and found the cart half filled with snow, "It seems I'm done for the day."

* * *

The sweat rolled down his spine beneath his already soaked shirt and his fiery locks dripped with it as he and two other men pulled a skid of supplies from the deck onto the dock. The heat had forced the prince to remove his tailcoat, but he refused to remove anything else no matter how strangely everyone looked at him.

Once the skid was securely on the dock the three men were rewarded with a brief rest while they waited for the carts to arrive. Hans sat in the shadow of a large crate and raised his eyes to the imposing fortress that was almost his new home. Age had turned the once pale grey stone nearly black so despite the abundant sunshine the prison looked as though it was impenetrable by even the sun's light.

"You're educated," the captain of the supply ship said as he stood next to Hans and pulled his pipe out of his mouth and used it to point the large words carved into the arch over the prison gate, "What's the say?"

"It's from Dante's _Inferno_ ," the prince said as he glared at the words 'Lasciate Ogne Speranza Voi Ch'intrate,' "Verbatim it reads 'Leave every hope ye that enter,' but it is most commonly translated as 'Abandon all hope ye who enter here.'"

The captain furrowed his bushy grey brows and took a puff off his pipe, "What a thing to put in front of a prison."

Peridot eyes looked down at the boards he was seated on. It wasn't the first time he had seen that written outside of a book. When he was deemed old enough to leave the nursery, much younger than he should have been but the elder prince's were having children of their own and didn't want him to be housed with them, Link a and his mother had led him to the tower, neither woman happy with putting a child so far away so much so that Link moved her bed to the tower and stayed with him until he reached the age of ten. On the door at the bottom of the tower was a piece of paper with "Abandon all hope ye who enter here" nailed to it. He had been holding his mother's hand when Linka ripped the paper down growling under her breath, "Diese kleinen Sheiβe Köpfe!"

"Mother," Hans gently tugged on her hand, "What did that say?"

"It's nothing to worry about, little one," Adelaide smiled down to him.

"It just means your brothers aren't very nice," Linka grumbled as she unlocked the door.

"Oh," he sighed as he looked down at his feet, "Why don't they like me? Is something wrong with me? Have I done something bad?"

"No, honey," Adelaide dropped to her knees in front of him and cupped his freckled face, "There's nothing wrong with you and you haven't done anything bad. They have by treating you this way. You know those stories you like Linka and me to read to you? Well, did Cinderella do anything wrong? Did Snow White do anything wrong?" she raised his face to look at her, "Did the ugly duckling do anything wrong?"

"No," he said softly.

"But their families was mean to them anyway, right?" Hans nodded slightly, "And they got their 'happily ever after' anyway just like you will," Adelaide kissed his forehead.

"What about you and Linka? When will you get yours?" the smile on the queen's face changed from sympathy to soft pride at his kind heart, "We will each get ours in time too."

Linka finally got hers when she had fallen in love with his brother Jakob, one of three that didn't treat me like garbage to be ignored or disposed of. She was banished from the castle when she became pregnant with his child, but Jakob protested and when his request to have his marriage approved by his father was denied, he left the palace and his title behind.

Last Hans had heard she and Jakob had eloped and were living on Elsker Isle; there were rumours they were welcomed into the summer palace by the king's brother Prince Anders.

The clattering of wheels on wood broke him from his thoughts and he rose with the other men to load the crates onto the cart.

* * *

Hans was glad to see the black structure sink below the horizon as they sailed back to Baltia. The wind moved and he pouted slightly at the lack of length. It had reached his waist when his father insisted he heave it cut; he was sending a prince to represent the Southern Isles, not a sailor. The only reason Hans was being sent at all was because none of his brothers could be bothered do it, but part of his punishment was the perpetual short haircut which greatly annoyed the barber given how quickly the youngest prince hair grew.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the gunwale trying to lose himself in the sounds of the wind moving the sails, the water as the ship cut through it, and the groaning of the wood, but he wasn't successful. No matter where he was, what he was doing, or if he was awake or asleep Arendelle wouldn't leave his thoughts. She wouldn't leave his thoughts. Never had he seen anything more beautiful than Queen Elsa; if that had been all it would have been easy enough to ignore, but she had shown more than she had meant to. He had witnessed her grace, her fear, and seen a hint of the intellect behind her deep blue eyes in the intricacy of her ice palace's architecture. She had also shown cowardice, refusal to accept accountability, and self-centeredness. When she ran away from the problems she had created he had taken care of her people, he had stopped her from killing two men, he had stopped her from being killed and begged her to stop the winter, but none of that mattered to her. Never did she allow him to speak, nor did she care what happened to him after she had sent him away. Just like with his family he was something to be gotten rid of, something best forgotten about. He was garbage to all but three people in the world.


End file.
